


Don't You Forget About Your Friend Death

by orphan_account



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Going to Hell, Necrophilia, Other, THIS IS THE WORST THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 04:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16509272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After his first concert, Cardinal Copia needs some relief. Luckily, he's got something that'll do the trick.





	Don't You Forget About Your Friend Death

The rush of performing was a bigger high than Copia was expecting. He was almost shaking when he made it back to his designated dressing room, uncomfortably hot in his suit. It didn’t really matter to him that the audience knew  _ just _ how excited he had become, in fact, it made the high even bigger. They had gone wild for him, screaming and trying to climb on the stage. It made sense now why the Papa’s were so keen to perform on tour. 

Before he even got the door closed he was fumbling with his zipper, only barely remembering to lock it. He stumbled towards the mirror, shoving his pants down his legs as best he could. This was one of the cons of wearing such fucking tight pants; it was impossible to get them off. By the time he got to the scattered chairs he’d gotten them down to his knees, nearly tripping over them before sitting and kicking them off all the way. 

There was a reason he hadn’t invited anyone to his room with him, even though it was expected of him as the new lead singer. People were slow to desire him, even though they obviously did. They were still mourning the lost of Papa III, which was understandable. Papa III had been a crowd favourite, in more ways than one. There were also the rumours. The rumours that he had had Papa III killed. The rumours that he had kept the head. The rumours that he had it in his dressing room, or kept it close at all hours of the day.

 

All of those were true.

 

Now, alone in his dressing room, pants off, he allowed himself to relax, closing his eyes for a second before opening the small case sitting next to the vanity. It was roughly the same size as a bag that would hold a bowling ball, but what was inside was definitely not anything you would want to get out in public.

Taking a deep breath of relatively fresh air, he reached in and pulled the head of Papa III out of the bag. Copia grimaced, wrinkling his nose at the smell that was wafting off of the severed head. He would have to get rid of it soon probably, which was unfortunate, but that was… fine. He’d figure something out. As of now, it wasn’t bad enough to put him off completely, so it would work perfectly for his purposes. 

Gently setting the head on the table, he spread his legs, tilting his head to the side. His initial idea wouldn’t work, he thought, slowly running a hand up and down his still hard cock. The decomp was a little faster than he had expected, seeing as it was just a head instead of a whole body as he had foolishly calculated. After a moment, he grinned. It was  _ obvious _ what had to be done. And it wouldn’t be that hard to do, either. 

Mind made up, he stood, shuffling the things on the vanity around to create a brace for the head, placing it right near the edge of the table. It might be a little awkward with the height, but at this point, he didn’t really care much. The adrenaline was still flowing and he  _ really _ needed to get off. After a few more moments of fussing, it was ready. He’d had to unfortunately break the jaw, but that was fine. This was the last night of Papa III’s residency anyway.

When it was ready, he pulled over a chair, dragging it as close to the vanity as possible and kneeling on it. He took a deep breath, then slid his cock into the cold and still surprisingly wet mouth of Papa III’s head. He shuddered, resting one hand on the top of the skull, and let out the breath with a groan. It had been far too long since he had done anything like this and he felt stupid not thinking of it before today. Though he had despised the man that didn’t mean that he hadn’t had fantasies like this, the Papa taking his cock and sucking him off. He thrusted gently, not wanting to damage anything too quickly, but that was taking too long. Bracing his other hand against the table, he pulled the head closer, shoving his cock all the way down to the hilt. 

That set him off, thrusting hard into the mouth frantically as he moaned, ripping some of the hair out of the scalp with every other thrust. He was glad he’d locked the door, as he wasn’t exactly being quiet anymore, panting and moaning, the chair under his knees knocking against the floor. On the edge of his consciousness, he could hear people outside the door, laughing and shouting to each other, a couple inquiring. No one knocked, and no one would ask questions later, but everyone would wonder, and perhaps a few would figure it out. He didn’t care. He was getting close. 

Closing his eyes, he thought back to the concert, reliving the thrill that had gotten him worked up in the first place. With a few more thrusts, he came, curling over the table and nearly falling off of the chair. When he came down, he noticed the noise outside of the door had quieted; he must have been louder than intended. 

Pulling out, Copia glanced down and grimaced. There was… something on his cock, which he should have expected while fucking a disembodied head, but that didn’t make it any less disgusting. He’d also managed to partially scalp it, which he realised when he moved his hand and half of the leftover hair came with it. He gagged, sliding off the chair and finding the closest trash can. Papa III probably deserved better than to be thrown away, but he honestly could not care less. He unceremoniously dumped the hair and head in the can, shoving it towards the door before making his way to the attached bathroom to clean up. He needed a shower, as he probably smelled like death, but that could be handled later. He had an after party to attend, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this half while drunk and I don't know why I finished it OR why I posted it but here!!! Have it!!!! This is hands down the WORST THING I have EVER written.


End file.
